I’ll be the Red Ranger
Chapter 193 – Years Later

- John York -

John adjusted his suit jacket one final time, his reflection staring back at him from the polished surface of the mirror. It had been years since he'd donned such formal attire, years spent in military fatigues and functional uniforms at the height of the war.

‘It's been over three years since the Republic was established,’ John mused silently. ‘Three years since we lost him.’ A sigh escaped his lips. Despite his position as a head of state, he felt the burden of not just his own grief.

‘He was our best chance,’ John thought.

Satisfied with his appearance after smoothing an errant crease and straightening his lapel, John turned away from the mirror.

Leaving the VIP lounge, he stepped into the corridor, the quiet hum of the building's climate control systems a constant backdrop. In the adjacent room, he glimpsed Katherine through the half-open door. She was still dressing, her elegant gown a cascade of blood-red fabric that mirrored her Boon. She caught his eye and offered a reassuring smile, which he returned with a nod before continuing on his way.

As John walked through the complex's hallways, the artificial lighting gave way to the natural glow of the Martian day. Emerging into the open, he was greeted by one of the rare communal spaces in Arcadia: the "Fallen Soldier Square." Mars' unforgiving terrain and inhospitable soil made cultivating greenery a costly endeavor, and such verdant plazas were a testament to human perseverance.

Lush trees, painstakingly nurtured within their nano-regulated soil pods, lined the square. Their leaves rustled gently in the artificial breeze generated by concealed climate modulators.

This square was among the most cherished places in the entire colony. The centerpiece was an imposing bronze statue of an anonymous soldier, gaze set firmly on the horizon. The statue was a solemn tribute to those who had sacrificed their lives, not just against the ever-encroaching Wave but against any threat that had challenged the Great House of York.

Today, the square was arranged for a special occasion. Rows of chairs were placed before a raised platform where John was to speak. Hovering silently above, an array of filming drones adjusted their positions, their lenses glinting like unblinking eyes. They would broadcast the event across the settlements, ensuring that no one would miss this pivotal moment.

"She's ready," a voice spoke softly beside him. One of his aides, a young man with a crisp uniform and an air of nervous efficiency, stood awaiting instructions.

"Thank you," John replied.

John responded with a nod, already making his way up the steps to the platform.

As he ascended, John surveyed the gathering before him. Many high-ranking officials and Rangers filled the expansive plaza, their uniforms a mosaic of colors and emblems denoting their ranks and affiliations. Attendance at such events was uncommon, making this assembly all the more significant. Being present meant staying within the favorable circles of the Yorks, a need for many.

"Ladies and gentlemen," John began, his voice amplified by discreet speakers embedded within the platform. It resonated across the crowd, commanding attention. "It is with great pleasure that I start this brief ceremony of commendation."

He paused briefly, allowing his gaze to sweep over the faces turned toward him. Above, a fleet of drones hovered silently, their lenses focused intently on broadcasting the event to viewers far and wide.

"Over three years ago, we embarked upon the Tenth Wave," John continued, his tone solemn. "A battle arduous and pivotal to the survival of humanity. During this period, our Empire found itself in increasingly precarious positions, with new adversaries nipping at our heels. Rebels and the Republic rose, daring to challenge the status quo we've long upheld."

"Today, we live in an era even more divided," he noted, a hint of resignation in his voice. "The twelve original Great Houses have fragmented into four distinct factions. Yet, despite these divisions, we continue to strive for peace."

A murmur rippled through the audience, a mixture of agreement and underlying tension.

"Because of this," John declared, his demeanor brightening, "we must seize these moments to celebrate good news."

He lifted his hands in a welcoming gesture, and right on cue, Katherine stepped onto the stage. The crowd's attention shifted to her, a figure of poise and confidence.

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"It is with great pleasure that I announce the newest General of the NEA," John proclaimed, pride evident in his voice. "At just twenty years, Katherine York assumes the position of General of the Red Rangers, succeeding Quinn, who has served with distinction over the past five years."

Applause echoed across the plaza, though whispers and murmurs threaded beneath the surface. The Rangers in attendance, exchanged glances laden with unspoken thoughts.

John chose not to elaborate on the reasons behind Quinn's departure from the NEA. Speculations abounded, some believed she had aligned herself with a faction that did not support the Emperor. They weren't entirely wrong.

But the truth was more complex and more somber.

Quinn's will had been broken.

The Green Ranger had continued his assaults unabated, growing bolder with each passing day. He granted no respite to the Emperor, his actions a symbol of defiance that rippled through the ranks. He had even overpowered generals, who were thought to be the pinnacle of strength.

When the confrontation finally came, the Green Ranger didn't simply battle General Quinn; he humiliated her. His tactics dismantled her defenses effortlessly, and his prowess rendered her strategies futile. In that decisive encounter, he shattered not only her defenses but also her confidence, leaving her spirit in ruins.

Katherine walked gracefully to the microphone. A sea of expectant faces gazed up at her, a mixture of respect and curiosity shining in their eyes. The ceremonial medal gleamed as it was pinned to her chest, officially marking her ascent to General of the Red Rangers.

"Thank you all very much," she began, her voice steady yet subdued.

"Today is a very special day," Katherine continued, her gaze sweeping over the gathered officials, Rangers, and dignitaries. "Over the past years, I have fought tirelessly to ensure our safety and defense. Despite the loss of many friends and comrades, I hope to usher in a new era of peace."

Her words were concise, heartfelt yet devoid of unnecessary embellishment. She concluded her speech with a brief nod, stepping back from the microphone. The audience erupted into applause, though some seemed taken aback by the brevity of her address.

John observed from the side of the stage, understanding all too well her aversion to the limelight. Katherine had never relished public ceremonies, especially those that centered on her own accomplishments. He knew she preferred action over accolades, strategy over speeches.

As the ceremony concluded, a swarm of journalists descended, eager to capture a statement or soundbite. Microphones and recording devices were thrust forward, and questions were hurled in rapid succession. Katherine navigated the onslaught with practiced ease, offering humble and straightforward responses that left little room for sensationalism. Her demeanor was polite but distant, curtailing any attempts to extract headline-worthy remarks.

Once the flurry of media attention subsided, John made his way toward the heart of the plaza. Thanks to advanced terraforming techniques, a variety of flora thrived here, though maintaining such a garden on the rust-red planet was no small feat.

Dominating the plaza's center was the immense bronze statue. At its base was a calm cascading fountain.

As was her habit, Katherine sat perched on the fountain's edge, her reflection wavering in the gently moving water. The rhythmic sound of the fountain provided a soothing backdrop, a momentary escape from her responsibilities.

"Are you alright?" John asked softly, approaching her with a tentative smile.

"Yes," she replied, nodding slightly. But the smile she offered didn't reach her eyes, which remained shadowed by a lingering melancholy.

"Alan and Isabella were among the guests," John noted, attempting to lift the mood.

"Yes," Katherine acknowledged. "They came to congratulate me. If they wanted, they could already be at this level. They're both exceptionally skilled."

"No doubt," John agreed, taking a seat beside her.

A comfortable silence stretched between them, filled only by the murmurs of distant conversations and the fountain's trickling. Katherine's gaze remained fixed on the water, lost in thoughts that John could only guess at.

"The Emperor is growing weaker each day," John commented after a while, his tone measured. "He won't be able to hold onto the throne much longer. They're saying that in three months, the voting will begin.”

"That's good," Katherine replied, her voice devoid of enthusiasm. The news didn't seem to bring her any solace.

John studied her for a moment. "If you're truly seeking change, you could consider running," he suggested gently.

"It's easier for you to win," she countered, a faint hint of a smile touching her lips.

"But I'm not a general, renowned for my role in the war," John replied. "You are."

"You're the Golden Ranger," Katherine retorted, glancing at him briefly.

"Even so, it wouldn't be enough," he mused. "But if you were to marry the heir of Selene, you'd have a real chance."

Katherine sighed deeply, her eyes returning to the ripples in the fountain. She didn't respond, allowing the weight of his suggestion to settle between them.

John hesitated before continuing, his voice softer. "He's not coming back. There's no point in holding onto the past."

She remained silent, her expression unreadable.

Feeling he had overstepped, John stood up. "I'll give you some space," he said gently. "But remember, you're not alone."

He walked away slowly, leaving her to her thoughts. As he moved across the plaza, he glanced back at the towering bronze statue. The inscription at its base read: In Honor of the Fallen Soldier.

However, It was impossible not to notice the striking resemblance the statue bore to Oliver.

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